


A Problem Shared... is a Problem Doubled

by mariposaroja



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Humour, M/M, Not To Be Taken Too Seriously, One Shot, which one of your otp gets rid of the spider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 13:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15606957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariposaroja/pseuds/mariposaroja
Summary: It is a little known fact that Emre Can isterrifiedof spiders.





	A Problem Shared... is a Problem Doubled

It is such an ungodly hour of the morning that Loris doesn’t even crack an eye open when he hears what can only be described as _whimpers_ escaping the man who was _supposed to_ be asleep in the bed beside him. “What on earth are you doing?” he drawls, though it’s probably indecipherable, wanting nothing more than to reach over and slap him over the head.

“There’s a massive spider on the roof.” Emre sounds genuinely close to tears. So much so, that Loris actually deigns to open his eyes and looks over to find the other man literally paralysed with fear, obvious even in the darkness of the room.

“There’s nothing there, you’re seeing things,” the blond assures him, voice a little softer as he stifles a yawn and pulls the covers close to his chest like a large sleepy cat.

Of course, it doesn’t end there. “I am _not_ seeing things. Look!”

And then the lamp is on, any hope Loris had of getting back to sleep disappearing with the darkness. He groans, feeling very much ready and willing to murder his boyfriend with the nearest pillow. He’s exhausted, and needs a certain amount of sleep if he’s going to be able to face training in the morning; which, at the moment, is not looking very likely. “That’s ti- oh,” his eyes widen when he finally gets a look at it, “that’s a hefty one, isn’t it?”

Loris doesn’t think he’s ever seen Emre look so furious in his entire life. “A _hefty one_? It fucking has _fangs_ , Lo. That is _not_ an English spider. I told you to make sure that you checked all the bananas!”

Taking a deep breath in an effort to remain calm because _really, Em_? _Banana Spiders?_ The blond wearily scrubs at his stubble before finally realising that he’s just prolonging the inevitable and tossing the covers off of himself. “You guard it, I’m going to go find a newspaper.”

Before he can even blink, Emre is out of the bed like a shot, blocking his path. “Please don’t leave me here alone with it, I’ll go instead.”

At this stage, Loris really doesn’t care enough to even argue, turning his attention from the other man’s hastily retreating form to babysit the arachnid that was currently occupying their ceiling. It was quite a large one, he must admit. Though not quite the exotic ‘banana spider’ Emre made it out to be. He supposes, really, that he should be a little bit kinder. Emre really does have a genuine fear of spiders, though one wouldn’t think it to look at him, and everyone is afraid of something. Loris himself hates goats, but then again he’s not likely to wake his boyfriend up at two o’clock in the morning to rid their room of a fucking _goat_.

It takes a lot longer than Loris is expecting for Emre to return and when he does he’s very sheepishly holding Loris’ copy of Messi’s biography. “It turns out that we don’t really read newspapers…”

It could have been the Dead Sea Scrolls for all Loris fucking cared at this stage, he still would have smushed the spider with it. He rolls his eyes and grabs the book from him, glad that he’s tall enough to comfortably reach the ceiling when he stands up on the bed. Loris takes a quick swing at it, wanting to get it over with, just as Emre is warning him through gritted teeth not to knock it off.

Too late.

It all happens in slow motion: the book hits the ceiling with a loud crack, entirely missing the arachnid and Loris can only watch as it does a kamikaze jump from where it had been chilling.

Right into their sheets.

He’s never seen Emre move so quickly in his entire life, halfway out into the hall by the time he starts cursing the other man out, absolutely (and _perhaps_ understandably) fuming. “What the actual fuck, Loris! You had ONE FUCKING JOB. How the fuck are we supposed to sleep now?”

Well, the blond genuinely doesn’t have an answer to that. Because as much as he can tolerate spiders, he doesn’t really fancy sharing a bed with one. Remembering that the thing was likely scurrying around on the bed, Loris quickly hops down, the sudden movement obviously startling Emre, whose flight or fight instinct had very much kicked in as he darted off down the hall. Unsure of what to do, Loris follows, though at a more respectable pace, making sure that the door is firmly shut behind him in case the creature got any ideas.

“We’re getting divorced.”

The conviction with which the midfielder utters those words throws Loris for a minute. “Emre, we’re not married.”

He obviously doesn’t care. “I’m taking the dog.”

 _‘Over my dead body’_ he’s just about to say when the two men seem to share a brainwave.

“Banksy!” Emre whistles, “here boy!”

Banksy, who had been fast asleep until then, slowly gets up and takes the time to stretch before trotting over to his owners. Well, _owner_. Emre just started showing up one day and Loris couldn’t get him to leave.

“Get the spider, boy. Get the spider!”

Banksy, although excited, looks thoroughly confused and Loris rolls his eyes once again before gently leading the dog into the bedroom, hoping that he won’t need too much coaxing to get the job done. He looks at his owner for a moment before hopping up onto the bed and beginning to sniff around the covers. Letting out a sharp bark when he finds something, Banksy does a little victory dance while nosing at the spider and Loris really won’t mind if he eats it this time.

But, of course, he doesn’t. Instead, he drops onto the mattress and begins to roll on it and Loris is pretty sure that Emre is on the verge of having a heart attack. The spider is probably dead, on the bright side. But it is also very probably squashed into the sheets now.

“Em?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s just go to yours, we can deal with _that_ tomorrow.”

“I think that is a very good idea…”


End file.
